A Crash Course in the Art of Fatherhood
by MediocreAuthor
Summary: George and Martha Washington had never wanted to have children, but after his wife suddenly decides she wants them to be foster parents, George has to get it together for the sake of his marriage and new troubled foster son. (Rating may go up eventually, but probably not. Purely familial.)
1. Chapter 1

"And if you just come through here, we can get you all settled."

George listened from one room over. He knew his wife had just brought a child - their first foster child - home. In all honesty, the boy was hardly a "child" at fourteen. From what the social workers had told them, he had been through a lot, especially in the past few years.

He honestly didn't know why he had agreed to this. He and Martha had always agreed on not having kids. Then suddenly she insists on them becoming foster parents? Not only that, but she picks one of the most "problematic" kids they can find.

As soon as he could hear his wife's footsteps exiting the newly furnished bedroom, he stood from his recliner. _Might as well get this out of the way_, he thought, making his way up the stairs. They had recommended an upstairs bedroom for the boy; he was prone to all sorts of mischief when unsupervised.

When he made his way to the doorway, however, he didn't expect what he saw. He leaned against the mahogany trim, taking in the sight of the kid: a thin, stooped boy with a head of unkempt black hair pulled out of his face, a rubber band holding the tangled locks in place. His face had almost a spotted effect; George couldn't tell if they were freckles, dirt, acne, or some combination of the three. His shoulders were slumped, and he appeared bored - or just extremely awkward.

George couldn't help but notice there was nothing in the room except the boy and what Martha and he had put in there to prepare for his arrival. No suitcase sat at the boy's feet; no backpack was slung over his shoulder. He lost track of how long he had been looking inside the room when the kid's dark eyes finally rose to meet his gaze.

The older man tried to stop staring, hoping to at least start off this relationship with a good first impression. "You must be Alexander. I'm George, your foster father. You already met my wife."

Alexander only nodded. _Alexander Hamilton seems like such a big name for a tiny guy._

Another minute of awkward silence passed between the two.

"How about you hop in the shower before we eat dinner? I'm sure I can find you something to change into, at least for tonight. I'm sure Martha will want to take you shopping tomorrow."

Again, the boy said nothing, only following his foster father's gesture into the bathroom across the hall.

George sighed, making his way to his bedroom. _Hopefully this phase won't last._

He settled on one of his old t-shirts that his occasionally stole to use as pajamas, as well as a pair of her flannel pajama pants. They were gender neutral enough, he figured, and it's only one night. They would probably fit him better than anything George owned, anyway. He hesitated as to whether or not to bother with getting him underwear for the night; that would be a run to store, as he definitely wasn't fond of the idea of sharing his underwear with the kid. Of course, Alexander likely wouldn't love that idea either.

He found an unopened pack of boxers in the very back of his drawer. They had been bought mistakingly several months ago, and were certainly a size or two too small for George to comfortably wear. He threw one of those pairs on top of the t-shirt and pajama pants and made his way to the bathroom, relieved to at least hear the shower running. He set the clothes on the floor just outside the door, knocking once and calling out, "Some clothes are out here for you."

He heard no response, but chose to just hope Alexander had heard him.

George returned downstairs and found his wife just starting dinner.

She looked up at him with a soft smile. "He seems like a sweet boy, doesn't he?"

He could only give a curt nod. She sighed.

"I know we weren't planning on having kids, but... I mean, this isn't like actually having one, right? He's already fourteen. No diapers or anything. And the poor boy has been through so much... Just try to bond with him?"

He leaned in to gently kiss her forehead. "I'm not upset that he's here, Martha. I'm just concerned about him causing trouble. You heard what those social workers told us."

"I know, but... Maybe he just needs some time here. Some stability in his life, for once."

"And a haircut."

She chuckled, looking up at her husband before her eyes returned to the stove, where she was browning some hamburger. "Yeah. That too."

George couldn't help but wonder... But he greatly hesitated before asking her, "Are you sure you're not just trying to replace-?"

"No." She cut him off harshly, her glare suddenly turning cold. "Don't even say that."

Thankfully, he didn't have time to further mess that up before Alexander came into the kitchen. He was wearing the clothes George had left, and they hung off his frame as if the boy were a coat hanger.

"Alex, honey." The warmth had returned to Martha's voice. "Dinner is almost ready, why don't you have a seat by window?"

Alexander did as she asked, taking a moment to gaze outside the window and watch a couple hummingbirds chase each other around the feeder.

Dinner was eaten in a prison of awkward silence, with Martha trying to make the occasional bit of small talk with one of the other two at the table. Unable to take it, George dismissed himself to his office with some lame excuse about having some emails to write to colleagues. They were made up, of course, and Martha probably knew it. He had no plans to come out until the kid had gone to bed.

**A/N: Hey, guys. This is a little rougher around the edges than I normally like to make Washington, but variety is the spice of life, I guess. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews. I was actually proud of this one.**

Alex cleaned up nicely. After a haircut, some new clothes, and a few days in a stable home, he didn't look quite so homeless. Of course, as George knew, one couldn't blame him for that. He had been homeless for a while.

In all honesty, he wasn't a bad kid. _Yet, at least_, George thought, sipping his morning coffee. Martha was gone, having had to be at work half an hour earlier than George got up. He heard Alex's footsteps coming down the hall before he appeared in the kitchen doorway, pausing as he noticed George's glance in his direction.

"I don't bite, you know," He said, trying to sound lighthearted. He really didn't want this kid to hate him.

Alex came in, a brand new backpack slung over his shoulder, and grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the counter.

"Leaving quite yet?" George asked after a glimpse at his watch.

"The bus leaves in five minutes," Alex mumbled.

"You know you don't have to take that bus, right? I could bring you to school. I don't go to work until eight anyway."

Alexander considered it. "If you wouldn't mind."

His foster father shrugged. "Have a seat. Relax for a minute; we have time."

The teen sat on the other side of the table, taking a large bite out of his apple.

George put his phone away. "Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm really not upset that you're here."

"My last foster home said I'm a lot to handle. They said they couldn't handle my "trust issues."" Alex tried to keep his voice neutral, but George swore he could hear it breaking a little. _The joys of puberty_. "And my nightmares. I kept waking them up on accident when I got out of bed."

George was a little speechless. _Is that what the last family had honestly meant by "problematic?"_

"Well... Martha and I are heavy sleepers." George couldn't really think of anything else to say. He didn't want to pry. "Did you have one last night?"

Alex shook his head. "They're not every night. But they get worse when I'm stressed out."

"I hope we're not stressing you out."

"I've been okay... really," Alex replied.

More awkward silence. This was honestly killing George. He was growing tired of feeling like an outsider in his own home. Like he was the guest.

"If you ever want to talk about anything, just know we're always available. We're here to be there for you."

Alex seemed to be taken aback, but quickly regained his dismissive attitude. He fidgeted in the seat, mumbling, "You're here to house me for a few months."

"I know you had a bad experience with your last foster family, but we aren't like that," George managed to keep himself from snapping. The boy's comment had upset him a little bit, but he could hardly blame Alex for feeling that way. While he didn't have specifics on Alex's past, he knew the kid had seen some stuff.

"Yeah, I guess."

George wasn't even sure the teen was hearing him at that point. Deciding that Alex must be uncomfortable, he tried to change the subject. "So, how is school?" _Shit, I'm getting old_.

"It's fine," Alex shrugged. "Boring."

"Boring?"

"I just don't really do much outside of classes."

"Have you looked at clubs you could join?" George really hated how old he was sounding. "I mean, I had the same problem in high school until I got more involved and made some friends."

Alex shook his head. "I don't like being around other kids. I'm just that weird kid who sits in a corner reading and doesn't talk to anyone."

George chuckled. "I bet you could find a club made up of the weird kids who sit in corners while reading and don't talk. You guys would probably have to fight over the corners, though. A room only has so many."

The teen gave his foster father a half-hearted simper in response to the lame comment. "Would that be a club, though?"

"Everything could be a club. Hell, my high school had a cake decorating club. Believe me; those were a few of the most awkward and boring meetings I've had to endure."

"You joined it?"

"They called me the Sprinkle King, you know."

"They did not." The boy's smile grew. George normally wasn't one for joking too much, but he was just glad Alex was opening up more.

Desperate to not lose the kid's attention, he jumped back to their earlier topic. "Have you checked out my library? I don't know what you like to read, but you'd probably find something in there."

Alexander's eyes lit up immediately. "You have a library here?"

"Well, we have a room filled with bookshelves which are filled with books... So, I think that makes it a library?"

"Well, where is it?" He asked before the excitement died down in his voice. He added in a calmer tone, "If you don't mind."

"You know where Martha's and my room is? Just go down one more door. You can't miss it."

George watched the teen scamper off down the hallway. He called after him, "Just make it back here in twenty minutes. I'll take you to school!"

George was already waiting with the car keys when Alex reappeared after fifteen minutes, a newly selected book in his hand. He refrained from asking what he had picked, deciding he had racked up enough "lame adult credit" for one morning.

"You ready to take off, then?" He asked.

Alex smiled, really smiled, and slung his backpack over one shoulder. "Yeah, let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

Alexander honestly felt spoiled. George's car was so nice, sleek, shiny, and candy apple red. It was quite obviously an early mid-life crisis purchase, but Alex wasn't complaining. It definitely beat the bus.

As George pulled into the drop-off line, Alex took a look at his new school. This was his sixth transfer in the past few years - or was it his fifth? He couldn't quite remember. It was a nice building, and the students he could see were as normal as could be. Alex has considered this the rich part of town.

"Have a good day, kid," George said, pulling up to the sidewalk.

Alex gave a meek "Thanks" and hopped out of the car, pulling his new backpack nervously over his shoulder. He tried to keep his head down, tried to blend in. The last thing he wanted was to stand out, but he was the new kid. So it would happen anyway.

He was relieved to find that nobody paid him any mind. It was only after the bell went off to signal that it was time to go to first period.

Alex looked at his schedule. World history. He hated history. He glanced at the room number, turning down the nearest hallway in the hopes of running into it.

"Excuse me, are you lost?" He heard a soft voice behind him. He turned around and saw a brunette girl with a very feminine babyface and pretty hazel eyes. She was giving him a small smile and looking at him expectantly. "Are you new here?"

He nodded a little. "I-I just need to find C150."

"Well, you're in the E hallway," She replied with a gentle chuckle. "I can walk you to C148 if you'd like."

"That would be great, thank you," He mumbled, trying not to be awkward. He wasn't great with people, but he really needed the help, and she was being super nice.

"It's no problem. I was about to head that way myself. I'm in C148 this hour." She began to walk, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Alex was following her. "Good luck with Mrs. Edmonds - she can be a bit harsh at times."

Alex followed closely behind, listening to her talk and watching her ponytail swing.

After just a couple quick turns, she stopped. Alex heard her say something, but he was too distracted looking around to really hear it. That is, until he started absentmindedly following her again.

"Oh, this is my classroom. C150 is right there," She repeated patiently, a small giggle escaping her pink lips.

Alex wanted to curl up in a hole and die. "Oh, yeah... Sorry. Thank you so much."

"It's no issue. I can help you with your next class when this one is over if you need it." She smiled at him. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," He answered quickly, hurrying into the room labeled C150. He cursed himself for being so awkward. He felt like he came off as an alien trying to act human. And acting was never one of his strong suits.

Once he was inside the classroom, he took a moment to glance around. He wasn't the last one in the room, thankfully. Just a few students sprinkled throughout the rows of desks. There was a group of three boys chatting away in the corner, but they seemed content to not acknowledge Alex, if they had noticed him at all.

He chose a desk near the back, as he normally did. It wasn't always the best option for practicality, given that Alexander wasn't exactly tall, but he managed. This immediately earned him what he could swear was an eye roll from the stern looking lady at the desk.

She stood, came over to him, and dropped a small stack of papers on his desk, the resounding _thwop_ grabbing the attention of the boys in the corner.

"Welcome to Miranda Senior High," Mrs. Edmonds said. She did not sound welcoming. In fact, her voice would probably send Dracula running for the hills. "There is what you'll need to know for this class. I recommend you read through it and do the assignments before the end of the week if you don't want to fall behind."

Her gray eyes were cold, but Alex didn't look away. He knew his peers were looking at him. "Yes, ma'am," He answered, thumbing through the intimidatingly tall stack of papers. It seemed like a lot. And this was supposed to be a normal freshman world history class?

She plodded back to the desk, and Alex felt like he was sweating. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

One thing was going Alexander's way: he managed to avoid talking to anyone else that morning. He allowed the cute girl, whose name he had learned was Elizabeth, from before to show him to his second period class, Algebra. That was a bit more his speed. She smelled like vanilla.

Lunchtime came around, and Alex was pleased to learn that he had the lunch that split a class period. He went with the herd of other students to the cafeteria. He honestly considered grabbing an Uncrustable and booking it to the bathroom, but he figured he shouldn't make himself look like a total antisocial freak, even if that's what he kinda was.

He moved to the back of the line and let a lot of the people file into their tables before he took his tray and found an empty spot. There was a good five spaces between him and next group of people. Awesome.

He started to eat, taking his time, as he didn't have anything else to do. Suddenly, he heard some familiar laughter... and it got closer. And closer. Until finally, Alex's saw someone sit right next to him out of the corner of his eye.

"This seat taken?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Uh... I guess not," Alex replied, looking up at his new visitor. He was just barely taller than Alex, and they shared the not-so-filled-out figure. He was thin with a mostly clear face, though a few pimples had popped up (damn you, teenage acne) and a head of curly hair. Despite their similar sizes, Alex detected a distinct difference between himself and this guy. He had a certain air of confidence that Alex seriously lacked.

"We haven't had a new kid in a while," he said with a friendly smile, holding out his hand. "John Laurens, bad boy extraordinaire."

Alex shook his hand nervously as the two seats across from him and John gained new occupants. "Don't let Laurens fool you. He may be a "bad boy extraordinaire" compared to Mother Theresa," one of them said in a faded French accent.

John dismissed the comment. "That's Lafayette. He has, like, a billion other names too, but good luck remembering any of them. And that's Herc. Don't mind anything he says."

Alexander honestly couldn't believe it. People were talking to him? Was it this easy to make friends- well, at least acquaintances? He had to think of something to say.

"I saw you guys first hour. Edmonds's class," He replied lamely.

"Yeah, yeah. She's a real tyrant, isn't she?" John chuckled.

"If you want, I can help with that packet she gave you. She gave me one when I transferred," Lafayette offered. "She never really graded it. So much time on Google for nothing."

"Yeah, thanks." Alex was starting to feel a little more at ease. Maybe these guys weren't so bad.

* * *

Alexander was starting to feel a lot better about the new school. He had actually enjoyed himself while talking with some classmates. And they seemed to enjoy it too! Or, at least, they were too nice to kick him out of their table.

He sat next to Elizabeth - or, as she preferred to be called, Eliza - in his careers class. She was super sweet and willing to lend him her notes, which was good since he was behind in class. Thankfully, that teacher wasn't nearly as bad as Edmonds had been.

His final class of the day had to be the one he had been loathing most of all: biology. He could work with numbers all day - and, if given the chance, he would - but biology was just _so boring_. He shuffled into the room during the one minute bell. Much to his relief, nobody really bothered to look up at him.

The teacher, a rather overweight woman with thin round glasses, ushered him to a seat in the third row, all the way to one side. Alexander wasn't thrilled, since the filing cabinet kinda blocked the board, but anything to avoid being gawked at as if he were some kind of zoo exhibit. The woman didn't so much as introduce herself before hurrying back to her desk and beginning to hush the class for the start of the period.

She began to pass out packets (_Yay, another one_, Alex thought) row by row. She'd hand them to the first person in the row, and they'd pass them back. He quickly snatched his from the kid in front of him. He almost felt rude, but the girl said nothing about it.

"We're starting our chapter on the systems of the human body today," The teacher (Mrs. McAllen according to the nameplate) began right after the bell had rung. Alex counted his blessings that she hadn't tried to introduce him.

If Alex were being honest, he hadn't been paying too much attention that day. It was all so new to him, and taking notes was the last thing on his mind.

But he really tried in this class hour. Mrs. McAllen droned on and on and _on _about the body's digestive system, pointing at diagrams that kept popping up on the board. But he just couldn't do it. He squinted his eyes, peering around the corner of the filing cabinet, before he finally gave up and glanced to the desk next to him, copying his neighbor's notes. The boy gave him a curious glance, but said nothing about it, so Alex figured he was in the clear.

For the rest of the class hour, he half-heartedly tried to listen to the lecture while peaking over at his neighbor's notes to fill in the blanks on his own. He didn't get a chance to try and thank his silent hero, as he was out the door the moment the bell rang.

* * *

Alex shoved the note packet in his green folder and shoved that in his backpack. He slung it over one shoulder and hurried toward the door, but he got stopped the sea of classmates all trying to exit at once. He waited back for the mess to clear up, then took off toward the B wing.

He was lucky enough to run into Lafayette, who handed over his old history packet with a friendly smile.

"You're a life-saver," Alex said with a nervous chuckle.

Lafayette only gave a "Yep" before he scurried off, Herc by his side.

Alexander hugged the packet to his chest as exited the building, scanning the buses until he found his own, bus 35 (at least, according to a note he had been given during third hour).

He found a seat near the front, sat down, and prayed nobody would talk to him. Before he knew it, the bus was stopping at the corner about half a block from the Washington's house, and his first day at Miranda Senior High was behind him.


End file.
